


Best Laid Plans

by boomturkey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Training Camp, national team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomturkey/pseuds/boomturkey
Summary: Atsumu has it all planned out: Go to the national team training camp and confess to Hinata. Nothing more romantic than sweat and volleyball, right?
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 61
Kudos: 617
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitcassiachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/gifts).



> I hope you like it Kit!
> 
> Big big thank you to [@vanellabean11](https://twitter.com/vanellabean11) for beta-ing!

“I’m finally gonna do it, Aran-kun.” Atsumu announces proudly, hands on his hips as he watches the morning light glint off the Ajinomoto National Training Centre windows. The sun is shining. The late spring weather is beautiful. He has been selected to represent Japan on the world stage. His oldest friend stands here beside him. And—

“Do what?” Aran asks through a yawn, politely covering his mouth. They’d taken the early train from Osaka that morning, neither of them wanting to be late for the first day of the national team’s training camp. The _new_ and _improved_ monster generation-infused national team training camp.

Grin spreading wide, Atsumu gestures to the training centre looming before them. “I’m finally gonna confess to Shouyou-kun.”

In his head, he hears trumpets and horns blowing adulations for him, not too dissimilar to Inarizaki’s old brass band. Streamers and confetti rain down around him. Some angels cry or some shit. Whatever such a bold and awe-inspiring declaration warrants. Some might even say a long time coming, but Atsumu doesn’t listen to those assholes.

Aran has been awfully quiet. Perhaps he’s awe-struck?

Turning, Atsumu sees Aran’s expression is pinched into something decidedly Osamu-like and profoundly judgemental. Atsumu doesn’t like it. “What?”

“Aren’tcha on the same team?” Aran asks, choosing his words carefully.

“Yeah, and?”

Aran kinda looks like he’s sucking on a really bitter piece of candy. “Why now?” _And not at any other point in the last year since he joined the team_ , he does not voice out loud.

Atsumu has several reasons for that, thank you very much.

First, he hadn’t been absolutely sure that his... fixation on Hinata, nursed in high school, still held true. So it’s not like Atsumu had sat there emotionally preparing himself to be struck dumb at the sight of grown-up, tanned, well-muscled, slightly taller, gleaming smile Hinata as he cheerfully walked into tryouts. He’d needed a few weeks — months, to adequately recover from that shock.

Then there’d been the whole restructuring their relationship thing. A setter-spiker relationship was significantly different than fated — and heated — rivals from across the net. Atsumu spent months learning about Hinata the person, and not Hinata the volleyball player — though, like Atsumu, Hinata’s entire life revolved around volleyball to the extent that everything he did was rooted in their sport in some way. Atsumu learned Hinata’s favorite foods, and that he liked to cook, and that his gym playlist was full of an eclectic mix of 1990s Japanese pop, Brazilian dance mixes, and western hip hop from the mid-2000s.

And that he liked to laugh at Atsumu’s jokes, no matter how lame or how high they flew over his head.

Atsumu learned that he very much enjoyed making Hinata laugh, ranking it over everything but the perfect toss and the sharpest service ace. _Maybe_.

It was really only back in December that Atsumu had finally figured out he was in love with Hinata. Something about the mid-season break, Hinata going back to Miyagi, and Atsumu needing to wait for eight whole days before he could toss for Shouyou-kun again, had finally allowed Atsumu to slot all the pieces together.

Oooooh! He was in love with Shouyou-kun. Shouyou-kun, whom he loved.

He almost allowed himself to feel embarrassed at how long it took him to figure out what all those after practice konbini runs, late-night setting practice, and beelining to Hinata first at every single Black Jackals event, actually meant about his feelings. Whoops.

Atsumu wasn’t stupid. It’s just he’s easily distracted by volleyball.

His declaration to Osamu during New Years that he was, **in fact** , in love with Hinata had been met with a confused look and then a long suffering sigh from his brother. Apparently something about Atsumu talking about Shouyou-kun all the time when they were teenagers — whatever, Atsumu doesn’t remember, shut up — had clued Osamu into his feelings pretty early on.

Atsumu committed right then and there to announce to Hinata first, and shortly thereafter to everyone else, that he was in love with Hinata Shouyou. Only to pause and grapple with a feeling Atsumu didn’t have a ton of experience with: self-doubt.

Not so much about his own feelings. Nah. Those ran hot and distracting — Atsumu had deliberately started showering waaaay earlier than Hinata after practices, because good god, how did he have tan lines in the winter? And why was Atsumu’s favorite pastime trailing them with his eyes?

No, Atsumu hadn’t been sure how Hinata would react to his confession.

Something Atsumu had needed to come to terms with early on when it came to Hinata, before he’d even realized his feelings — Hinata does not belong to him alone. Atsumu is not Hinata’s only friend. He’s also definitely not the only person who loves Hinata. He’s probably not even the only person who’s _**in love**_ with Hinata either. While Atsumu is fully confident he’s an absolute catch, thank you very much, he knows holding Hinata’s singular attention is pretty difficult.

At Hinata’s birthday party last year, Atsumu got to witness this all play out first hand. He’d been to big weddings with fewer people in attendance. At the time, Atsumu had amused himself by quietly making fun of all the lovesick idiots mooning after Hinata as he flitted around the room, saying hello to his two million and three friends.

At the time Atsumu hadn’t realized then that he too was one of those lovesick idiots.

Sure, Atsumu is very confident that he’s Hinata’s favorite teammate — even over Bokuto. In January, Bokuto had been out with a small cold for a few days and received a warm welcome back from Hinata once he’d gotten better. Atsumu had missed one measly practice ‘cause he had an appointment with the eye doctor and got those terrible eye dilation drops. The next day Hinata had been beside himself, complaining that he missed Atsumu’s tosses, that he couldn’t live without them, and that Atsumu definitely probably owed Hinata extra tosses after practice today, and hey! If you do we’ll go get sushi afterwards! Hinata’s treat.

Yeah. Atsumu was very sure of himself when it came to his place in Hinata’s volleyball heart. Only, maybe that was predicated on being the setter in Hinata’s life, and now on the national team, Hinata had access to another setter. The worst possible setter — at least where Atsumu and his poor jealous little heart were concerned. Stupid Kageyama and his stupid prior history with Hinata, adding stupid extra dimensionality to Atsumu’s already spicy rivalry with Kageyama. Atsumu didn’t want to have to **also** worry about being Hinata’s favorite setter, at the same time he was worrying about whether his serves and sets were better than Kageyama’s.

Atsumu may be kinda stupid, but he has never been a chicken shit. He’d come to a decision after watching a deeply frustrating k-drama where the romantic leads never got together because they couldn’t admit their feelings: He was going to confess to Hinata. He just wanted the time to be right. Like— like after they won it all at the V League championships! Yeah. Streamers. Confetti. Music. The adrenaline high of a big win. Tons of sweat. Volleyball.

Atsumu couldn’t think of anything more romantic.

And then he and Hinata — and several of their other friends, but whatever — had been selected for the national team. Lightning struck twice! Atsumu had an even better plan now: He was going to confess to Hinata at the first national team training camp. Hell yeah.

What was more romantic than sweat, and volleyball, and being one of the best players in the nation?

Nothing. That’s what.

Tipping his head to the side, Atsumu gives Aran a sidelong look, “I can’t think of anything more romantic than confessing here.” He gestures at the tall sandstone brick, glass, and metal building looming in front of them.

Aran stares at him, and then squints at the building, and then squints back at Atsumu. “Y’sure this doesn’t have anything ta do with the fact Hinata-san is gonna be surrounded by a buncha his friends, n’ he ain’t gonna be payin’ much attention to ya?”

Feeling like he’s just been stabbed through the heart after Aran had the audacity to read into his very soul, Atsumu squawks a profoundly defensive, “No!”

Aran looks at him skeptically, “Or are ya worried that yer no longer the only setter in his life, and ya think he only likes ya ‘cause of yer tosses?”

That was too close to the truth. Atsumu throws his hands in the air as he stomps forward into the building, “Ya been hangin’ out with Kita-san too much!” He’s starting to regret his decision from a month ago that saw him demanding that he and Aran be roomies here. Not if this was the kind of emotional support he was going to be getting.

He didn’t have to stew in his resentment too long though, because once he’d set down his things and gotten changed, stepping out into the enormous gymnasium that was to be their training grounds for Golden Week, Hinata spotted him.

Like the best balm for his bruised ego and heart, Hinata leapt up from where he’d been chatting with Hoshiumi and Gao as they stretched. Wearing his brightest, gleamiest smile that always made Atsumu wonder if his cheeks hurt doing it. “Atsumu-san!” Hinata practically skipped over to stop in front of him, “You made it!”

Atsumu can’t help himself from smiling back like a doofy idiot without a care in the world. “I’m here,” he agrees.

Hinata’s eyes sharpen. Straight to brass tax — it’s one of the things Atsumu loved about him most. “How fast do you think you can get warmed up?” Hinata leans in close, lowering his voice conspiratorially — he is so fucking cute. “I wanna hit some of your tosses.”

So what if Aran was an unsupportive and mean bastard, trying to offer reality checks where they weren’t needed? So what if Hinata had a billion friends and Atsumu had to vie for his attention just like everyone else? He had an edge though. Hinata LOVED his tosses. And there was no greater feeling than that perfect connection they had on the court.

“Gimme five and I’ll be ready.”

Hinata eyes him. “You should probably take ten, I don’t want you to strain yourself—”

Hinata is cut off by a voice calling from the entrance, “Woah-ho! Kuroo wasn’t kidding. Chibi-chan got big!”

Atsumu doesn’t even have time to feel offended on Hinata’s behalf for the use of that nickname — the guy who shouted it looks shorter than Hinata, fer chrissake — before Hinata gasps loudly and bodily shoves (SHOVES!) Atsumu out of the way to race towards the entrance, a shouted greeting ringing through the gymnasium.

“Yaku-senpai! You made it! How was your flight? You look so cool now!”

Watching Hinata fawn over the short and smug-looking libero who Atsumu has just now resolved to despise, a thought occurs to him. Maybe. Perhaps. Just maybe, Aran hadn’t been exactly wrong about what he’d said earlier.

He was going to be vying for Hinata’s attention all week long.

Heck.

* * *

The universe, through its avatar Coach Hibarida, is obviously out to get Atsumu. At least enough to throw a wrench in his plans for confessing to Hinata.

See, Atsumu had worked it all out. He had a plan. They’d do their warm-ups together and split off into training groups. Atsumu, an old hat at these national training camps now, would offer guidance and support for Shouyou-kun. Then they’d do end of practice scrimmages — their team coming out on top — obviously — and then high from their win Atsumu would help Hinata do cool-down stretches, then they’d grab food, do their post-practice assessment of what went well and what didn’t. And then good and primed and high off volleyball, Atsumu would take his hand, probably trace his fingers over Hinata’s calluses or something equally romantic and say: “Shouyou-kun, there’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to say to ya...”

Literally the first step in Atsumu’s grand plan had been kicked in the face by ‘Yaku-senpai’ who was terrifying in a way Atsumu had trouble putting a finger on — later when Yaku effortlessly picked up Atsumu’s hybrid serve on the first fucking try, Atsumu figured it out. Yaku was a defensive marvel who took delight in crushing your bones into dust. Hinata spent all warm-up chattering excitedly with Yaku, joined by Bokuto and eventually a reluctant Kageyama, with no room for Atsumu to butt in.

Then Hibarida, as if sensing what Atsumu wanted and choosing to spite him anyways, announced their initial groupings. Atsumu was on the ‘power attack team’ with Bokuto, Aran, and Ushijima. Hinata was on the ‘speed defense team’ with Hoshiumi, Sakusa, and of course mother fucking Kageyama.

To add insult to injury Hibarida felt the need to express how thrilled he was to see an evolved version of the freak quick. _Grrrreat_.

Something about his feelings must have come across on his face because Aran gave him a gentle karate chop to the shoulder mid-practice. “Yer a grown up — stop pouting.”

Atsumu stuck out his lower lip, “‘M not pouting.” He said with a pout.

Even worse, after Atsumu’s team had been resoundingly kicked in the teeth by the ‘Supersonic Speed Defense Force’, as Hoshiumi and Hinata had started calling themselves, Hinata was inevitably surrounded by a flock of nationally ranked athletes, looking to catch up with him. Of course Hinata was good friends with both their best Middle Blockers. And didn'tcha know it, Ushijima and Kageyama were both very interested in learning about playing internationally!

Even freaking Komori, who Atsumu was prrrreeeeetty sure didn’t have any sort of relationship to speak of with Hinata, was part of the group eagerly hanging off every one of Hinata’s words.

Sucking on his teeth, Atsumu turns to look at Aran, laying beside him as they stretched out their backs. “Hey Aran-kun?”

“Hmm?”

“Ya still like me more’n Shouyou-kun, right?”

Aran blinked, flicking a glance over to the gathering of volleyball players orbiting the man in question. “I dunno Atsumu, do ya like me more’n Shouyou-kun?”

Atsumu scrunched up his face into a pout. “That’s not fair and ya know it. Ya’d make a terrible trophy husband.” He’d been pretty clear about his intentions earlier too!

Aran snorted, rolling up to sit, cracking his shoulders, “Ya know who’d make a worse trophy husband?” He pointed a finger at where Hinata was telling some story, impersonating someone based on the squashing of his hair — Komori and Yaku laughing. “Hinata-kun.”

Indignant, Atsumu pushed to sit as to better glower at Aran, “But he can cook!”

Aran was giving him the ‘Osamu-judgement’ face again. With a sigh Aran pushed to a stand, offering Atsumu a hand up. “Just don’t hurt yerself, Atsumu.”

Brushing off his shorts, Atsumu mutters under his breath, “Dunno whatcha mean.” And pointedly ignores the eye roll Aran gives him.

Whatever, who needs expectation management when he has a plan to re-work. His future happiness depends on it.

* * *

Later, Atsumu doesn’t even get to pull Hinata into a post-scrimmage debrief because apparently all of them are expected to have a quick little session with the athletic trainer in the middle of everyone’s dinner. Listing off potential aches and pains and shit, so he can plan accordingly or something else useless. Whatever.

Atsumu’s lucky he even got to sit with Hinata at dinner. That only happened because Hinata had looked at Hyakuzawa, Hoshiumi, and Gao and said he’d like to have dinner with just Atsumu, if that was okay? Atsumu nearly let his sense of smug pride overwhelm him, before he noticed Sakusa rolling his eyes at him from across the room — and honestly, not right now Omi-kun. Atsumu had a plan to get back on track.

Apparently this athletic trainer is another Miyagi native and knows Hinata and all the others. Somehow he’s good friends with Ushijima? Like, making Sakusa piteously jealous at the fact that Ushijima almost laughed at a joke the dude gave.

Feeling generally spiteful as he watched all his plans fall to ash around him — and especially for that unhelpful eye roll from earlier — Atsumu made sure to give Sakusa his least pleasant smile and ask how his appointment with “Hajime-kun” went.

Surprise surprise, apparently whoever the fuck this Iwaizumi guy is he’s some kind of snake charmer because even Sakusa — fully intending to go into his appointment antagonistically, walked out with hearts in his eyes.

“Who the heck is this dude exactly?”

Hinata looked up from stuffing his face full of brown rice and vegetables, cheeks puffed out cutely, as he wrinkled his brow. Swallowed. “Who?”

Atsumu flapped his hand towards the hallway where different members of the national team were disappearing down for their meeting with Iwaizumi. “Mr. Athletic Trainer dude.”

Hinata blinked before his grin stretched wide, “Oh! You mean Iwachan-senpai!” Atsumu curbed the urge to pout at whatever the fuck that nickname was, but it was reeeeaaal close. “What about him?”

“How come Omi-kun and even Ushiwaka are like, half in love with him? He got volleyball player treats in his pants or somethin’?”

Hinata snorted — point for Atsumu! — before he shrugged. “Iwachan-senpai is one of the coolest and most reliable people I’ve ever met.” Hinata put his chin in his hand, drumming his fingers as he considered Iwaizumi, “He’s also really nice, even though he looks kind of grumpy. And he’s like—” Hinata squinted, obviously searching for the right word.

Atsumu wanted to ask if it was because Iwaizumi was hot, but also he didn’t want to bring that fact to Hinata’s attention, because then Hinata would notice Iwachan-senpai was hot, and Atsumu really couldn’t handle more competition right now — he was already dealing with so much.

Finally, Hinata snapped his fingers. “He’s like competency porn!” Giving Atsumu his most satisfied smile.

Atsumu allowed himself a small moment between heartbeats to collect himself from the utter delightful shock that was Hinata using the word ‘porn’ in his presence, before he recovered. “Uh-huh, okay. What the heck do ya mean by that?”

Hinata tilted his head, picking his chopsticks back up, “It’s hard to describe. He’s just very good at everything he does. You’ll see.” He gave a pleased little smile, tucking back into his food.

Atsumu stewed on that for a minute, savagely piercing a floppy piece of zucchini with his chopsticks. If this was going to be a freaky sexy, borderline happy endings-esque encounter, he wanted to be mentally prepared. Like, it wasn’t just him he was worried about. What if this was a creepy come on thing? And the players didn’t know how to say no, or they found Iwaizumi so hot they let it happen. It wasn’t just anyone who could remove the stick from Sakusa’s ass.

More than likely Atsumu would be called before Hinata, and he could suss it out, and if this Iwaizumi tried making moves, Atsumu could resort to threats — make sure Hinata was okay. It would be fine. He’d get the lay of the land, warn Hinata and—

“Yo, Hinata!” Komori waved from the exit of the dining hall. Hinata turned in his seat. “Iwaizumi-san is ready for you!” Shoveling the last of his food into his mouth, Hinata stood up, already turning — Atsumu could vividly see terrible images of harassment flash before his very eyes and he couldn’t bear it!

“Shouyou-kun, wait!” His voice rang sharply throughout the dining hall. Everyone paused, turning to stare at the spectacle Atsumu was making. Hinata looked at him curiously, as Atsumu’s cheeks flared with heat. “Uhhh, ya can leave yer dishes. I’ll take ‘em for ya.”

Hinata blinked once, before his face bloomed into a wide and grateful smile, slicing right through Atsumu’s anxiety and beaming happiness and reassurance into his heart. “Thanks, Atsumu-san!” and with that, he turned and walked off — probably to his doom. Or Atsumu’s doom. A generalized sense of doom.

No longer feeling hungry, Atsumu pushed his mostly eaten meal to the side and slumped forward to press his face into the table. He needed a break. He hadn’t even been here ten hours, and he was already feeling exhausted. Could he just bail on his meeting with Iwachan-senpai and go back to his room to sleep for a thousand years?

It wasn’t long after that two people slid into the seats next to him and across from him. Atsumu didn’t look up, too consumed by his own self-pity.

“He’s kind of an idiot, isn’t he?” That bastard, Yaku asked around a mouthful of food.

Next to Atsumu, Aran sighed, “Yeah, but he’s our idiot.” Atsumu felt Aran’s large, comforting hand pat him on the back. Condescending as it was, it still felt nice.

Yaku hummed in agreement, digging into his food. After a moment he interrupted Atsumu’s pity party, “Hey, Barbie, you gonna eat your tsukemono?”

Atsumu grunted, not bothering to lift his head. And then he froze as the nickname sunk in. Looking up, almost definitely feeling a line pressed into his forehead from the tabletop, Atsumu narrowed his eyes, “Didja just call me Barbie?”

Yaku didn’t pause his eating as his grin spread wide and mean. “Yep.”

Atsumu looked to Aran for support, found none, before looking back at Yaku, “How’s about ya don’t do that, Yacchan?”

Across from him, Yaku stilled, his chopsticks paused halfway up to his mouth. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Setting his chopsticks down, Yaku leaned forward, threading his fingers together as he glared at Atsumu. “Sorry, I must have misheard you.”

Glaring back at him, feeling his old stubborn streak kick in, Atsumu lifted his chin, tall enough even sitting that he could easily look down his nose at Yaku. He was an idiot, but he wasn't chicken shit. “I said—”

“Atsumu-san! It’s your turn! Iwachan-senpai will see you now!” Hinata chirped, skidding back into the dining hall. His expression lit up, not reading the tension at their table at all, “Oh! I see you’re making friends with Yaku-senpai! Hi Aran-san!” Sliding into the seat next to Yaku, Hinata’s face pulled into a frown as he noticed the food still on Atsumu’s tray, “Did you not—”

Atsumu stood abruptly, a plastic smile on his face. “That was fast, Shouyou-kun.”

Hinata stared at him for a beat, tipping his head in very mild confusion before he let it go, “Yeah, Iwachan-senpai said I’m already a master at taking care of myself.”

Atsumu hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “That ya are, that ya are. Ya mind dealin’ with,” he gestured at the trays in front of him. Hinata nodded once, still watching him with a bit of concern. “Welp, see ya later. Better go figure out what Iwachan-san wants.”

Not waiting for a response, Atsumu strode out of the dining hall, ready to take out his feelings on stupid fucking Iwachan-senpai, because honestly fuck this. And fuck Yaku and his goddamn Barbie comment. And Aran! Not saying shit! And honestly, Hinata too, for being the golden boy everyone can’t help but love and his stupid perfect smiles that shot right into the core of Atsumu’s soul. And his stupid laugh and the way he always tipped his head back like he couldn’t contain his joy. And that fuckin’ look in his eye when he wanted Atsumu’s toss more than anything—

Atsumu ripped open the door of the athletic trainer’s office savagely, before clattering it shut behind him. Iwaizumi had his back to the door, stiffened at the sound, before casting an assessing, if somewhat amused glance over his shoulder at Atsumu. Atsumu grit his teeth waiting to be reprimanded for his attitude.

Turning, Iwaizumi leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Miya, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Atsumu’s expression turned mulish, “What? Like how I’m an asshole and demandin’ and I’m gonna tell ya how to do yer job?”

Iwaizumi seemed unfazed, the corner of his mouth ticking up a bit amused, though not condescending Atsumu thought. “Nope.” He said, popping the ‘p.’ He gestured for Atsumu to take a seat, “Not even close. Let’s talk.”

Momentarily distracted from his impotent rage, Atsumu threw himself down into his seat, slumping down a bit, so his longer legs made an obstacle that Iwaizumi would have to circumvent to get to his own seat. Unperturbed, Iwaizumi didn’t bother with the chair across from Atsumu, and instead levered himself up onto the counter he’d been leaning against.

Levered himself up quite easily... Now was not the time to get distracted by Iwaizumi’s arms. He had Hinata’s wellbeing to think of!

“So, whatcha say to Shouyou-kun?”

Iwaizumi’s brows ticked up fractionally before they resettled. “Pretty sure this meeting is supposed to be about assessing you and your needs. Let’s leave Hinata out of this.”

Atsumu hmphed, “Ya got some sorta doctor-patient confidentiality thing goin’ on?”

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh, “Not a doctor, Miya. Nah, it just doesn’t feel right to gossip about your teammates when we ought to be talking about you.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me,” Atsumu said hotly, crossing his arms.

At that, Iwaizumi picked up his file and flicked it open, “Yeah, looks about right. No injuries since you went pro. Solid consistent training regimen going on five years now. Solid diet,” Atsumu felt himself puff up a bit, always happy to be heaped with praise. Hinata wasn’t the only one who took excellent care of himself.

“Buuut, I’ve seen you play, I think there’s some improvements we could make.” Atsumu flashed a glare up at Iwaizumi, suddenly feeling very put out about their differences in seat height. Iwaizumi’s smile was easy, and ahhh, that was kind of disarming, wasn’t it? “There’s lots you can do that Kageyama can’t, so we may as well work on a program that highlights those.”

Tamping down the swell of pride at that comment, Atsumu sucked on his teeth, sticking out his lower lip as he squinted at Iwaizumi, “Maybe so.”

He could read the ‘hook, line, sinker’ on Iwaizumi’s face, and Atsumu decided he couldn’t hate the guy for it. Iwaizumi proceeded to outline the program they were going to co-develop focusing on Atsumu’s superior flexibility, especially around his back sets and what Iwaizumi liked to call the “limbo set.” Atsumu had never felt his volleyball play so seen before. Iwaizumi knew his stuff, and he’d obviously spent time studying Atsumu’s games.

After another ten minutes, Iwaizumi was describing a superb fake-out from a recent match against the Warriors, his arms swinging wide as he excitedly described Atsumu’s expert use of Sakusa and Hinata as decoys, emphasizing his delight at the resulting setter dump. That was when Atsumu understood what everyone else saw in this guy. Shit, he might be like 10% in love with Iwaizumi now too.

Eventually, Iwaizumi leaned back on his palms, kicking his feet a bit, his heels bumping into the cabinet, “Sooo, you wanna talk about why you came in like such a surly asshole earlier?”

Atsumu blinked at the sudden change in topic, feeling his shoulder hike up to his ears in a dismissive shrug. “It was nothin’.” Iwaizumi’s skeptical brow had Atsumu scoffing, “Didn’tcha meet Omi-kun earlier? He was probably way more rude than me.”

Iwaizumi snorted, cocking his head to the side “Sure, but he softened real quick when he realized I wasn’t interested in Ushijima.” Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow shrewdly, giving Atsumu an assessing once over. Atsumu would very much like to feel less seen now, thanks.

“And you came in here asking about Hinata.”

Averting his gaze to stare at the far wall where the anatomy of the quadricep was laid out on the wall, Atsumu gave another dismissive shrug.

“I’m not interested in Hinata, the kid is like... Well, I suppose he’s not a kid anymore really, but he’s not my type, I promise.” Something in Atsumu’s expression must be betraying him, because Iwaizumi cocks his head to the side, “That’s not what you were pissy about though.”

“I thought ya were an athletic trainer and not a physiotherapist. Ya don’t need to physio-analyze me.” Atsumu slid a glance at Iwaizumi, to watch his expression.

Iwaizumi only chuckled, “You mean psychiatrist. And no, I’m not. I don’t know you, but I’ve always been a pretty good listener, if you want a non-judgemental ear to hear you out.” Leaning forward a bit, Iwaizumi’s smile turned a bit lopsided as he lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “I imagine your history with most of the guys here makes it kinda uncomfortable to vent, hey?”

Okay, like 15% in love with Iwaizumi.

Taking a deep breath, Atsumu laid out all his feelings, his grand plan, his realization back in December, and how every single hurdle you could think of had been thrown his way today. He had four more days of suffering where he wasn’t going to tell Hinata how he felt, and it was killing him. Once he got going, he found he couldn’t stop himself from admitting a few of his own insecurities — about Hinata’s popularity with other people, his tendency against being pinned down, Atsumu’s fear that Hinata only liked him for his sets. Iwaizumi listened to it all, nodding and humming where appropriate.

When Atsumu finally finished, feeling a bit wrung out, he chanced a look up at Iwaizumi, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Iwaizumi gave him a small smile. “Y’know, you should just tell him how you feel.”

Atsumu wrinkled his nose. “I know that, but what if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or like, he goes out on one pity date with me and pretends like we just don’t click and it’s awful—”

Iwaizumi held up a hand, shaking his head. “Look, Miya. I don’t think you have anything to fear.” Before Atsumu can fully parse that, Iwaizumi continues, “I’m all too familiar with caring about someone the world kinda revolves around, where you always feel like you’re second fiddle.”

Iwaizumi hops down from the counter, clapping a warm and friendly hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, “I promise you, it’s worth it, even if you think you’re scared.”

30% in love with Iwaizumi!

Nodding his head vaguely, Atsumu walks to the door, turning at the last second to look back at Iwaizumi, “Hey, thanks a lot. It uh, thanks for listenin’.” Atsumu can feel his ears burn, feeling like a big dumb kid, asking Kita-san for advice again.

“Don’t sweat it, Miya. Good luck.” Iwaizumi gives him a grin.

“Ya can call me Atsumu, it’s what all my friends do.” That makes Iwaizumi’s smile widen, “See ya around, Hajime-kun.”

“See ya, Atsumu.”

With that Atsumu exits the hallway, feeling a load off his chest. The dining hall lights have dimmed, the large room empty of all volleyball players. Heaving a sigh, Atsumu makes for the dormitories. If he recalls correctly Hinata was rooming with Kageyama — just down the hall from his and Aran’s room. He could see if Hinata would be up for a late-night stroll of the grounds maybe. He was feeling brave after his talk with Iwaizumi — half worried about losing his nerve in the morning.

He’ll stop off at his room first, brush his teeth — just in case! — and then go find Hinata and they can talk. Yeah. It wouldn’t be perfect like he planned, but who cares? The two of them had never been particularly perfect anyways. Opening the door to his room, Atsumu plasters a wide teasing grin on his face, loudly calling, “Honey, I’m home!” awaiting Aran’s long-suffering sigh in return.

Instead, he gets a “Welcome home!” from an amused voice that is absolutely, definitely not Aran.

Pausing in the still-open doorway, Atsumu gapes at Hinata, currently perched on the narrow bed Aran had claimed that morning. His cheeks are a bit flushed as he watches Atsumu with a small smile.

“S-Shouyou-kun?” His voice is an octave too high. He clears his throat, “Whatcha doin’ here?” It’s then that he notices Aran’s bags have disappeared, replaced by Hinata’s MSBY gear.

Hinata’s flush darkens his cheeks a bit more as he pushes to a stand, “Ahah, well y’see,” He rubs at the back of his neck, “After you left for your appointment, I asked Aran-san if we could switch rooms.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows lift even higher on his forehead, his lips parting in confusion. What? Licking his lips, Atsumu tilts his head, “Why—”

“Your appointment went super long, I hope everything was alright,” Hinata says in a rush, not letting him form his question.

Atsumu blinks, finally stepping into the room, and shutting the door. Leaning against the wood, he watches Hinata with open curiosity. His heart is beating really fast, watching Hinata get flustered kind of did that to him, but he was also really confused. Felt thrown for a loop. He hadn’t expected Hinata here. Now. He’d been preparing to hype himself up for a bit, before he cajoled Hinata into a late-night walk.

This was all too fast.

Hinata was staring at him expectantly. Blinking, Atsumu says, “Uh, yeah, it’s cool. Hajime-kun is real nice. Ya weren’t kiddin’.”

Hinata nods his head, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, beginning to gnaw vigorously on the poor thing. Atsumu would treat it much more gently. That thought is way too distracting for right now—

“That’s good, that’s good,” Hinata says with a shaky breath.

“Shouyou-kun, why’d ya want to switch rooms with Aran-kun?”

Hinata freezes, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of red. And then he sighs, planting his hands on his hips. “You should probably sit down.”

Oh fuck, was he dying? Taking a few wobbly steps to his bed, Atsumu practically crumples onto the mattress, feet still firmly planted on the carpet, staring up at Hinata with no small amount of concern. “Are ya okay?”

Hinata waves a hand in front of him, dismissing the question “Fine, fine. I just— I needed to talk to you.” He flicks a glance at Atsumu out of the corner of his eye and then immediately begins pacing the narrow room. Atsumu watches him with open confusion.

“So ya switched rooms with Aran-kun?” What kinda conversation were they having that Hinata needed to be here, in his room, for the next four days...? Realization finally started to dawn on Atsumu.

Good god, he was a fucking moron.

“Wait Shouyou-kun, I have somethin’ to say first.”

Hinata wheeled around, to stare at him, brows furrowing. “No, no, I was waiting longer for you, so I should get to speak first.”

Atsumu scoffed, “Yeah right, waitin’ like an hour ain’t got nothin’ on me.”

Hearing the challenge in his words, Hinata’s eyes sharpen, his gaze narrowing on Atsumu. “I’ve been waiting way longer than an hour.”

Atsumu sticks his chin up, glowering at Hinata. “I don’t care, I get to say it first.”

“No way! I do!”

They both pause, glaring at each other for a moment, before they open their mouths at the same time:

“I like ya!”

“I’m in love with you!”

Both of them pause once again, staring at each other, processing their statement. Hinata’s nose wrinkles first, “I think I win, I just admitted I love you.”

“Wah! No fair! I said like ‘cause I didn’t wanna freak ya out! I was gonna build up to love organically!” Atsumu thought perhaps he sounded a little defensive.

Hinata crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto one hip. “Yeah, sure. You can say that now. I still win.”

“This ain’t a competition!”

“Says the loser.” Hinata grinned, tilting his head so he was looking down his nose at Atsumu.

Huffing indignantly, Atsumu threw his hands in the air, “Well fine. If ya wanna be a little shit about it — I love ya. Happy?”

At that, Hinata’s smile bloomed wide and glowing, his cheeks flushing as his eyes zeroed in on Atsumu. He’d never seen Hinata do his creepy intensity thing while smiling before. It uh, wasn’t as off-putting as Atsumu thought it would be. More like Hinata was promising he was gonna eat Atsumu all up.

Eyelashes fluttering, Atsumu found he quite enjoyed that thought.

“Very.” Hinata takes a step forward, and then another, until he’s standing between Atsumu’s legs, staring down at him. He slides warm hands up Atsumu’s arms to rest on his shoulders.

Swallowing, Atsumu has to remind himself to breathe, “Hey Shouyou-kun?” He asks, eyes fixed on Hinata’s plush lower lip. Hinata hums in response. “Does this make ya my boyfriend?”

Instead of answering, Hinata closed the distance between them, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to Atsumu’s lips, one hand dragging up from his shoulder to cup the back of Atsumu’s neck. Atsumu had his hands looping around Hinata’s waist, one pressing up to grip the fabric of his t-shirt.

With a contented sigh, Hinata leans back, only enough so he could speak. “Yeah, you’re my boyfriend, Atsumu-san.”

With a grin, Atsumu reached his hands down to cup the back of Hinata’s thighs to tug Hinata into his lap. One of Hinata’s hands snakes into his hair to give it a little tug, tipping Atsumu’s head up to look into Hinata’s warm gleaming eyes. They grinned at each other, both of them a pair of idiots in love.

He managed a mumbled, “Cool” before Hinata’s lips were on his again, this time more searing and urgent. A tongue swiping against his lip. Atsumu was more than happy to open up with a groan, loving the hot slick wet press of Hinata’s tongue against his own.

It was as Hinata pulled away to run hot open-mouthed kisses along Atsumu’s jaw and neck that he managed one last coherent thought before he stopped thinking about anything but Shouyou for the next long while:

There ain’t nothin’ as romantic as sweat, volleyball, and the national team.


End file.
